Titanic: The Vampire Remix
by Casey Redbird
Summary: Rose DeWitt Bukater came to the RMS Titanic expecting it to be a slave ship, but what she found was much better. Rose meets Jack, the enticing, penniless American who seems to have a secret, and the two are caught in a dark, epic love. Rated T for slight sexual content, swearing, and adult themes. Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic or any of the characters.
1. Prologue

**Preface**

**1912, April**

_**Rose DeWitt Bukater**_

I could feel myself fading away.

Dying isn't exactly pleasant, especially when you're ripped away from the one you love. I remembered one second, staring at Jack's handsome face, those sparkling eyes, so wide and new, and then I remembered being ripped away from him, the cold taking me away.

I was dying.

I couldn't hear, couldn't feel, couldn't see, couldn't smell, couldn't taste. Every sensation was gone- every little piece that I knew of me had vanished, in the _Titanic _shipwreck. I was gone.

And then suddenly I could see something. A light, or something of the sort. I wondered if this was the light people claimed to see when they passed away, or if I was just hallucinating, on the deathbed. And then the pain curled through my body and I could feel again. I screamed at the top of my lungs, finding my voice.

Whatever was happening to me, it was bringing me back to life.

**What do you think so far? Comment and review! If I get 20 reviews I will continue with the story!**


	2. Chapter 1

**1**

**Rose DeWitt Bukater**

**April 10, 1912**

The Bukaters were a wealthy family, one who could afford everything they owned. But their only chance was Rose's marriage to Cal Hockley, so she'd wearily agreed to be wed to him. But to be honest, Cal was a jerk, and whenever she was with him she felt an immense fatigue. Why did her parents have to set her up with this... utter train wreck? It wasn't that he was ugly; Cal was positively handsome and muscular. But the looks benefited nothing if there was not a good personality to compliment them.

Rose stared up at the RMS Titanic now, remembering the freelance deal her family had made with Cal's family, which had created the wedding ring that was on her finger now. It felt heavier than usual, as if it had gained weight. It probably had- they'd probably laced it with diamonds when she wasn't looking. They were always _giving _her things, just to please her stone-hearted mother. With a weary sigh, Rose took Cal's hand and let him lead her out of the chariot. She didn't pay any attention to the conversation that went on around her. When they finally reached the dining hall, Rose took off her jacket and sat quietly, letting the words of everyone else absorb her but never directly adding to the conversation. A couple of times she heard her name, but she didn't respond to it. She knew they weren't talking to her- they knew how to get her attention. Disgust filled her.

When one of the lulls in the conversation happened, she decided now would be the perfect time to balance her emotions. Taking a deep breath, she lit her cigarette, blowing the calming smoke all around her. No one made a reaction, but her mother's face was enraged. "You know I don't like that, Rose," she said quietly.

Ha! She thought Rose gave a rat's ass what she liked and disliked? With the remainder of the petty ire left in her system, she took a deep breath and blew the smoke that still remained in her mother's face. Her mother made no reaction, but her eyes did tighten as though in anger. Rose liked the sight of her mother's anger- at least it added some emotion to her cold face.

She knew they only dealt with her because she was her mother's daughter; if it had not been for that, they probably would've killed her a long time ago. Sometimes, she was just flat disrespectful, to the most "wise" of leaders, the richest of kingdoms. But she didn't care about ranks. She didn't care about anything.

At least that was what she told herself.

For she did care- at least, subconsciously. She minded that mens' eyes slid past her seat like she wasn't there. She minded that the adults had full conversations about her when she was sitting right there in front of them. She minded that no one seemed to care about her, even Cal, the man to whom she was engaged. She wanted to scream. Maybe if she shot herself someone would be affected. Even their anger would be _something- _it would show that at least one of them did genuinely care whether she lived or died.

She couldn't deal with much more of this behavior, and nor could she pretend to. Rose blew out a deep breath and stood, walking away from the chatter. Of course, no one noticed her leave, and she was almost certain that no one would notice her absence. They were too busy drunk and rich to care about a seventeen-year old girl who was admittedly suicidal.

Rose took a deep breath and stared up at the sky as she climbed onto the main deck, letting the winds of the sea calm her and sort out every bit of doubt she had. Soon, she wouldn't just be suicidal. Soon, she would go and take away the burden she'd granted them. Or maybe it wasn't a burden. They didn't hate her; she knew that for a fact. Hatred would've meant that some type of care was involved. Only carelessness was in their eyes when they did look at her- and that was occasional.

She watched the sun change patterns in the sky, intent and clear on her course now. There was no more silly teenage hesitation, no more fear, no more doubt.

She was going to take her own life.

So what if she went to Hell? That would be better than dealing with _this. _Rose smiled slightly as the plan formatted itself in her head. Tonight, she would drown herself. Not only would the water take her, but the ice-cold currents of it would probably grasp her life before the drowning did. She stood before the peasants on the deck once more. For some reason, they didn't look as filthy and worthless as they once had.

And that was when she caught sight of him. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him- the beautiful man who would change her life forever. His hair was golden, and it fell down to his face in locks. He was impossibly tall, and his body was muscled even under the tattered robes he wore. His skin was smooth and free of any blemishes or pores, and his lips were turned up in a slight smile. Their eyes met, and her heart ached to see beyond his beauty. This man was a peasant. She could have nothing to do with him.

But he was paying attention to her.

_Any peasant would pay attention to me,_ she thought. _I have what they want- money. _

But the rational way of thinking and this sudden new view of life clouded her doubt, and she smiled back.

Her smile faded when she finally stared into the man's eyes, gasping in surprise when her fear was confirmed. At first she thought she'd been imagining things, but the world was perfectly clear now, and she could see every fabric of it as plain as day.

The man's eyes were a shining, almost burning bright scarlet red.

**Jack Dawson**

He'd come on this ship for one reason. He'd known the richest families in the world would be here, and all their virgin children. For some reason, virgin blood appealed to him more than normal blood. Blood at all was a sickening notion, but it was better than the animal blood he'd tried, which had almost made him sick every time he drank it. Humans were to be drank from, and there was nothing he could change about that. The only thing he could do to lessen his pain after taking human life was to not take human life. So, on the rare occasion when he was that thirsty, he drank only what he needed, preserving the human's life- usually.

Sometimes he would slip up, kill a human, but it was nothing to toss their body into the sea. It was only after that that he'd cry, shedding the large tears that had been his since the day he'd been born and hadn't changed since he'd become a vampire, and hear his mother's voice in his head over and over again: _You've failed, Jack. You've failed._

He didn't want to fail her, but what other path was there to go? He was a vampire, an immortal who needed blood to survive. What else could he do?

He remembered the legends about vampires in America and smiled at how off they were. Vampires didn't sleep in coffins; actually, they preferred beds. They couldn't be killed by wooden stakes or holy water or anything else, and they were truly virtually immortal; the only real way to kill a vampire was to behead him and burn his body, and only a vampire had the strength to behead another vampire. They were exceptionally fast and strong- he could probably lift the _Titanic _itself if he tried. The only myth that wasn't a myth was the one about the red mist. Whenever he concentrated hard enough, Jack could transform himself into a red mist, invisible to the eyes of humans.

He was standing on the boat, drinking from his friend Fabrizio, the only human who knew what he truly was besides his mother. Fabrizio's blood was like a warm, elicit campfire- it kept him nice and warm for the moment, but once it was out, he was impossibly cold again. He sighed in frustration when he finished drinking.

"I know this is hard for you, Jack," Fabrizio sighed as he moved the scruff of his collar up so the fang marks wouldn't show. "But I want to do whatever I can to help you through this. You know, you probably have more humanity than the rest."

He growled at that, thinking back to the dark time when he'd lost his father because of his _lack of humanity. _The devil himself...

"Oh!" The sharp gasp that left Fabrizio's lips distracted Jack quickly as his eyes snapped up in the direction that he was looking. And for the first time in his existence, Jack laid eyes on her. Later, he would wish he'd never taken them off.

Her hair was long and auburn but muted against the sun's harsh rays. Her eyes were wide, his eyelashes long and almost getting tangled up when she blinked. Her body was tall yet slim, fit in the exact way a woman should be. She was beautiful. Their eyes met, and in hers was a strange... desperation, was it? Was that the expression in her eyes? In her fiery eyes there was desperation, like she needed to be with him. That was the first thing he noticed about her. The second thing was the impossible, delectable scent of her sweet crimson blood. His eyes widened, and his fangs shot from his gums. She had to be the best thing he'd ever smelled- and he'd smelled plenty of strong scents. The way her lips lifted said she thought the expression he was showing her was a smile. But in truth, his lips were curled back over his teeth, his body halfway down in a deadly crouch. He realized what he was doing halfway there. This woman was human. She had a life. She had a family, a future. He couldn't take that away from her.

But would it hurt him to simply take a sample of her sweet crimson?

He drew a deep breath, smiling genuinely this time even though her blood was like a shoved knife down his throat. Who was this beautiful angel, and how would he get close enough to her to taste her blood?

He was going to kill her. He knew that for certain. If he tasted her, he would kill her. If her blood smelled this good, it would taste ten times worse.

He smiled softly as the wind blew another vicarious burst of flames down his throat. She turned away from him, and it felt strange, almost intimate, like the breaking of a kiss. He stared after her for a long moment before turning back to Fabrizio, who was staring after her, eyes wide.

"She's your One, isn't she?"

He hadn't thought about that, in truth. One of the biggest vampire legends was that vampires always found their mates in humans, and changed them into vampires. The easiest way to tell if someone was your One was to drink their blood. He swallowed and stared at Fabrizio. "I honestly don't know."

As the sun set above the ship and night fell over the Titanic, both of them were formulating plans. What they didn't know was that both of their plans involved Rose's life.

**I was watching Titanic after I came back from a second showing of Breaking Dawn, which is what motivated me to write the first chapter. Some ideas kind of clicked together and I had this. I hope you guys liked it! I'm working on the epilogue of REVEALED, and I have some news about that one soon, but I won't give away too much here. The biggest thing is that the title of book 12 is officially BATTLED, and that it will all take place in Oklahoma. (Notice I didn't say just Tulsa. ****) **

** If It Were You chapter 3 is coming soon, too, but as you know, it takes me a while to write those, simply for how much character development I have to add, so I won't say it's coming **_**that **_**soon. Also coming soon, but this one much sooner, is Screw Bella chapter 13. Actually, I think I can post that one today- I finished editing it today. It's not so good to be a werewolf in Forks at the moment...**

** I know I ask this in every story, but has anyone seen Breaking Dawn yet? Add a review for that in your review for this. **

** Otherwise, Seeya!**

** XOXO,**

** Casey**


	3. Not a Chapter- Profile

Hey, guys, go read my profile now. I have some big news for you. Read it please.

Happy reading!

XOXO,

Casey


	4. Chapter 2

**2**

**Rose**

**April 10, 1912**

The Bukater girl took a deep breath, staring down at the lapping waves of water. Dark and seductive, the cold front blew around her, causing her hair to billow in the wind. Yes. This night Rose was truly alone—for the first time in what almost felt like ages. She knew now that her death was coming. She smiled feebly to herself, rising to her feet and walking slowly toward the edge of the ship.

It had been a nice, loving journey aboard the _Titanic. _Rose was lucky; she was one of the few who'd gotten to ride it, though her view of peasants had not changed. But why should she hate them? They hadn't chosen their lifestyle—well, most of them, anyway. She had no personal vendetta against peasants, only disliking them because it was in her blood. It wasn't something she could really stand up to, and she didn't know if it would ever be gone.

It didn't matter. She wasn't ever going to be able to voice her opinion, now that she was dying. Why should she even think about life, when the opposite was true? She took a deep breath and continued to walk. Gooseflesh raised along her arms as the night's cool breeze blew gently over her. Rose knew that in seconds, her entire body would be locked in ice, struggling to remain alive—and she hoped it lost the struggle.

Rose planted her feet carefully on the railing of the front of the ship—she couldn't quite remember what it was called. She rose to the top, then climbed over. Frightened, she grasped onto the edge again. For some reason, she couldn't let go. She wasn't ready to die just yet. _No! _she thought furiously. _I must not think this way if I am to commit suicide. I must do it and be gone. _

Rose took a deep breath, closed her eyes, shifted her weight, and prepared to jump off the ledge.

"What are you doing?"

The deep, seductive voice was not one she recognized—in fact, it wasn't anything she _wanted _to recognize. The man sounded utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful, and Rose tended to be attracted to those sorts of men. She tried to stop herself, but she couldn't help but turn around and look to see who had spoken.

And that was when she saw him. It was the peasant from this morning—the red-eyed one. His golden hair fell in locks around his face, and his crimson eyes watched her warily, as if he were afraid to get any closer to her.

"Why do you care?" she yelled. "No one cares about me, and neither should you."

"Ah, but I do." His voice was just as beautiful as his face, a thousand musical notes on a ukulele strumming one simple line. "I care because what do you think the charges will be if they find me here, your body in the water? What do you think the implications will be?"

"Bad... for you," she admitted.

"Exactly," he agreed. "And, also, for you. You would be dead, and you would have committed suicide. I'm pretty sure that's a big sin. I wouldn't want such a pretty girl to go to Hell."

She felt something stir, deep inside her soul, but she ignored it, just staring into those gorgeous crimson eyes.

"Now, come back over the edge," he crooned, his voice seductive. "Come now... come..."

Rose, as if in a trance, turned and climbed back over the railing. Once over, she jumped, falling to the ground—or she would have if he had not caught her. He'd been standing a few feet away from the railing, but it was still a miracle how fast he reached her. He steadied her, making sure that she was standing straight.

"I don't even know you," she sneered, trying to seem more irritated than she truly was.

"And I don't know you," he replied. "But I'd love to get to know you."

"You... you can't... say anything," she breathed. "If Cal finds out..."

He nodded, pressing his fingers to his lips and pantomiming locking a door and throwing away the key. "Your secret's safe with me, I promise."

She smiled.

"They're going to come looking for you soon, you know," he reminded her. "So we'd better get started on the introductions."

She blushed—a scarlet crimson that made him flinch for some reason. "Well, I'm Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"I'll just call you Rose. The rest is too long." He smiled.

"Fine. What's your name?" she asked.

"My name..." The man grinned, showing a set of pearl-white teeth. "Is Jack Dawson."

**Jack **

Jack blew deep breaths in and out, through his nose. When he was certain that his oxygen supply was stellar, he looked up at Rose. Her beautiful, fiery eyes wore an amused expression, as if his name surprised her. Her cheeks were still scarlet-red, and they were just as beautiful as the beloved scent of her blood—which was appearing everywhere now. It was torture not to rip his fangs right into her throat—but he resisted.

"Hello... Jack Dawson," she said, coming to stand a few inches away from him. The closeness was excruciating. Jack had to press his teeth into the skin of his lip to keep from grapping her, listing her head to one side and moving that beautiful hair out of the way to show her neck, the artery pounding with delicious blood and crimson sweetness—

"Hello," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman."

She blushed. "Why, thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Hard not to find you attractive, even if you are all wet." Jack took off his jacket and handed it to her, making sure he didn't touch her—contact with her warm human flesh would make him lose it, he was certain.

"Thanks." Rose hesitated before continuing. "You know, I want to ask you something—this has been bugging me since I saw you earlier."

"Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows, wondering what such a magnificent creature could want from him.

"Why are your eyes red?" The question took him completely by surprise. As a vampire, there were several things humans could not see, and one of them was the red of a vampire's eyes. It was how he'd gotten on the ship. Humans couldn't see vampires' true eye color—well, most of them anyway; the slayers, a group of humans who existed only to kill vampires, were specially trained to see around the fabled "mist" that protected vampire eyes. Rose couldn't be a slayer; she'd have known why his eyes were red and what he was. And slayers found their mark at thirteen—and he knew Rose was far from thirteen years old. So he was flummoxed for a second. But he came up with a believable lie. "I have a disease in my eyes that turns them red at night. It's called flenaria." He thanked his lucky stars for coming up with the name of the "disease" so quickly.

"Aww, wow. That must feel awful." Rose put her hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him. He tensed, struggling not to feel the warmth of her pulse against his shoulder. If he was going to convince her that he was human, the best thing to do would be to _act _human.

"Yeah. It does." Jack tried to breathe only through his nose. Sometimes that helped. If you breathed through your mouth, the power of the scent went all into your throat and through your lungs, making it much harder to resist. Rose's closeness was a factor too. Everything within him was screaming for him to forget about keeping up human pretenses and bite her—and drain her of blood until she was dead.

But Jack felt a connection with the woman. He couldn't kill her; but he did have to taste her blood eventually to see if she was the One, as Fabrizio had guessed earlier.

"Hey, Rose," he said, in an effort to keep his tone light. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she answered. "You?"

Oh, that was _far _from the slayer's mark age, he realized with surprise. If she was a slayer, she'd have manifested her gifts by now. He answered with the age he'd been when turned, though he'd lived for several hundred years past it. "Seventeen."

She chuckled. "Really? You don't look seventeen."

"I don't _feel _seventeen," he admitted. And he didn't. He _felt _hundreds of years beyond how old he looked.

"I don't either," she agreed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm too old in my head."

He laughed. "How is that?"

"Because I have suicidal thoughts and no one pays any attention to me and I start thinking about things a seventeen year old shouldn't and it all starts running together—" Rose caught her breath and stared at Jack, blushing. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said, shaking his head. "You can talk as much as you want, Rose. I'll always listen."

Just at that moment, before Rose could say anything, a loud voice boomed: "Rose!" Jack's body tightened and his eyes closed. He knew that voice.

"I have to go, Jack. I'll see you later. Goodbye." Rose did something that surprised him, even though he couldn't see her expression. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly. The blood in her body pounded through his ears, and she was in so close proximity to him that he almost bit her. But she let go, and walked away.

He opened his eyes. "Goodbye, Rose."

...

**I haven't written anything for you Titanic fans in a while, so here you go. Jack/Rose development. How do you feel about the story so far?**

** Thank you for your endless support! **

**XOXO,**

**Casey**


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